Arising to Seek My Muse

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP… Begrudgingly, my sleepy eyes pry open (yyyaaaawwwwnnnn) — BEEP-BEEP-BEEP… and seemingly of its own accord, my hand slips from beneath the pillow, arm slithering out from between the many-layered, cocooning sheets of warmth — BEEP-BEEP… and silences the offending clarion of annoyance, announcing the end of yet another peaceful night’s slumber.

Stretching out to full extension, I yawn once more and roll to lay on my back, staring blankly at the white ceiling above — blank as the mind that contemplates it. Heavy lids threatening to close once more, I shake my head and rub my eyes to wipe aside the last sticky threads of the Sandman’s special blend.

Turning over and tossing the covers aside, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and pause, to wait for the last lingering vestiges of dream-time fog to dissipate. Now, more firmly rooted in the new day’s reality, I arise, traipse into the hall and ascend the soft carpeted steps, slowly, one-by-one, each step a further escape from the frigid basement lair of my dwelling, and exit onto the cool hardwood floors above.

I stop to tap the buttons of the thermostat — 63, 64… ahhhhh, 72, that should do the trick, and scuffle my way toward the kitchen, cats scurrying along beside, begging their morning meal. The cold tile squares of the kitchen electrify my senses, my muscles tensing and tingling as my frigid feet fumble to find a throw rug upon which they may tarry. Brrrr!!!

As thoughts of winter stir in my mind, the wind whips through leafless trees, their barren branches scraping the sides of the second-story deck outside my window. The off-key serenade of a mournful flute, with its brush-scratching drummer in accompaniment, leaves me longing for the crisp, cool, colorful days of fall, so recently departed.

Breaking from my reverie, I give a quick shudder and continue toward the cupboard — open the door, reach for the filters, pull one out, pop the top of the coffee pot, plop the filter in place … I chuckle as I consider the calm ritual of the making of morning coffee. So simple a task, yet so necessary to the start of each new day.

Drip-Drip-Drip-Drip… The metronomic dripping of the coffee into the carafe marks the time as I inhale the bitter-sweet aroma of roasting Arabica beans…. Drip-Drip-Drip… while patiently awaiting the first taste of my morning elixir. Lulled into a meditative state, my mind starts to wander, traveling the synaptic byways, treasure hunting for loose threads of meaning among the back roads of the subconscious and last mid-night’s imaginations.

Time slips away, until the silent stillness in the kitchen brings me back to the present moment. Realizing that Mr. Coffee has dispensed with his duty, I stiffly stand and cross to the counter. Retrieving my favorite cup, then two lumps of sugar and cream, I pour the steaming, bitter nectar of Nirvana near full to the brim.

I take a quick sip, letting the warmth wash over me as my senses come more fully alive, conditioned for the jolt of caffeine soon to follow. Clutching my cup, I exit the kitchen and ascend yet again, moving more purposely to my cozy computer loft above. Entering, I sink into my well-worn chair, and stare at the sparse screen before me. I stroke a key, sparking my laptop to life, and sigh. What shall I write? Ohhh, what shall I write?

I sit and sip a bit, seeking my muse, setting my mind free to sift the fertile sands of language —

Smiling at her inspiration, enthralled by her ethereal ways, the ideas suddenly rush forth like the spreading rays of the rising sun, illuminating my once dark mind. I set down my cup as I sit up straight, and extending tendrilled fingers, I begin to type, giving permanence to the once ephemeral.

Thank-you, my dear, sweet muse, thank-you!!